King's Burden
by Prism Elf
Summary: [Post DA:O, but before Awakening takes place. Sequel to Warden's Burden but can stand alone.] Being king isn't everything Alistair thought it would be. Mostly its meetings, court, and paperwork, piles of paperwork. His days seem endless and fixed; until an assassination plot is brought to light and the effects of it could shatter his world and heart.
1. Prelude

_ Post DA:O, but before Awakening takes place. The road of kingship is a hard one. Alistair never expected to be king, but now he is. From the reconstruction of Denerim to trying to move on from the woman he loved his trials and tribulations as king never cease or give him a moments peace. This fanfiction is the sequel to __ (the link for the story is below) but it can stand alone as well. This is Alistair's story. Every chapter will be mostly from his point of view, a few might be from Shirl Cousland's and some other characters, but mostly it's Alistair's story. So enjoy and thanks for reading! I rated this 'T' for now, but a few chapters might be updated to 'M'. Thanks for reading!_

_ s/5882834/1/Warden-s-Burden _

_Sincerely,  
PE  
_

**Prelude: Denerim**

Arl Eamon stared at the small child crawling around on the rugged covered floor. The boy could be no more than a few months old. Cooing softly the babe gummed a wooden horse toy that his father had given him to keep him silent.

"Your Majesty, are you certain about this?" Eamon asked. Watching the babe throw his toy horse down and roll over onto his stomach.

"Eamon, I cannot allow the memory of my beloved wife to be tarnished with my…indiscretion." King Maric Theirin stated firmly though he faltered slightly over the last word. "Eamon, I have no other place to go with him. His mother left him on my doorstep. He is mine to raise as I see fit, but I do not want him. I do not want him to threaten Cailin's bid for the Ferdelen throne. I need the child hidden."

"Is the boy to know who you are? Who his mother is?" Eamon asked looking Maric over. The man had visibly aged. His once dark golden hair was streaked with gray and jagged worry lines crisscrossed around his eyes and mouth. Being the king of a struggling nation had taken its toll on Maric.

Maric shook his head and placed a hand over his eyes rubbing his brow. "His mother did not seem to mind the idea of him knowing, but I do not like the idea. Let him think of her as a besotted scullery maid. I do not relish the idea of him knowing the full truth and I do not know if his mother would either." Maric sighed and continued to rub his brow. "As for me, I can never fully acknowledge the boy for fear of what that would mean to Ferelden. But I will not deny the child some sense of his father."

Eamon nodded his understanding. "Why come to me, Maric? Certainly there is someone more qualified to take care of the child?"

"No one else is qualified to raise my child!" Maric dropped his hand away from his eyes. He looked tired and worn even more so than before. "Please, Eamon, I know that I'm asking a lot of you, but I have no where else to turn. Loghain has advised me that this is best and safest course of action for the boy. I trust you, Eamon."

Eamon sighed and turned away to watch the babe raise his head up to look around the room. The babe blinked his eyes and tried to scoot across the floor using his legs and arms to propel him. Eamon found himself smiling at the child. He chuckled and nodded to the nurse maid who was standing nearby. The woman had been wringing her hands wanting for all Eamon could see to pick the child up from the moment he had flipped himself on to his stomach. The nursemaid snatched the babe up from the ground. She clutched the baby to her breast and bowed to Eamon and Maric before turning to leave.

"Maric, I understand the situation you are in, but taking care of a child this young I have no idea where to even begin." Eamon admitted. He was not married. His time was constantly divided between Denerim and Redcliff. Even though Teagan stayed most of the time in the capitol to oversee the Landsmeet meetings, Eamon was called away frequently to address many problems concerning Redcliff.

"I'm just asking you to take him to Redcliff to be raised. I want him away from the royal palace and away from the critical eye of the Landsmeet." Now it was Maric's turn to sigh. "I would not normally ask this and you know it, Eamon. But as I stated earlier you are the only one I can turn to at the moment. I only want a few people to know he exists. The less people that know the less likely anyone can use him against me or his brother."

Eamon looked taken aback. Maric simply wanted his son to be safe. If he had understood what Maric was applying, then yes, he really did want what was best for the boy.

Having no children of his own would make raising the boy difficult. People would talk and gossip. They would assume it was his child that he had brought from Denerim. Some bastard that he had gotten upon some doe eyed maid. Sighing, he was doing that a lot more lately. Eamon nodded solemnly. _It's not like Maric is really giving me a choice here._

"Thank you, Eamon." Maric said sounding a bit too relieved to Eamon's ears. Maric stood and Eamon with him. "I'm sorry to cut this short, but I do have an early day tomorrow and I know you will want to make arrangements for taking care of the babe."

"I still don't know what I'm to tell people. About his parents?" Eamon stated. "What am I to tell the boy about his parents?"

Maric looked thoughtfully for a moment placing a finger to his chin and tapping it lightly. Then he stared straight at Eamon. "Just use your best judgment, Eamon. I trust you." The king's shoulders slumped slightly. "He's a bastard, Eamon. People are going to treat him differently no matter who his father is."

Eamon nodded and then a question he not thought to ask earlier popped into his mind. "Maric, does the boy have a name? Or, shall I name him?" Eamon asked placing his hands behind his back.

"Alistair." Maric said quietly and with that Maric turned and strode out the door leaving Eamon staring after him shocked silence.


	2. Chapter 1

****_Since I have finished_ **Warde****n's Burden**_I had this story in my head. I love writing this chapter it was fun and tricky at the same time. I will try to update this story at least once a week for I want to get the chapters just right and since it's slightly AU with the events before Awakening I want it all to fit together. I don't think that this story will be as long as_ **Warden****'s Burden**_but it has the potential to be. I'm also updating on a regular basis my Mass Effect story so hopefully they will not get in the way of each other too much. : ) Thanks for reading! Enjoy!_

_PE  
_

**Chapter 1**

"Your Majesty," Alistair groaned and rolled over pulling his pillow over his face. He didn't want to get up. He had been up most of the night, even if it had been his choice.

"Your Majesty, I do hate to interrupt, but there's…" Quill's voice was soft and held a timbre of fear. As he trailed off most likely realizing Alistair wasn't listening.

"Go away, Quill." Alistair mumbled into his pillow.

"But, Your Majesty, there's …" Quill stopped speaking. And Alistair sighed thinking that the elf had stopped speaking realizing that he wasn't going to move. He wasn't planning it. His head was throbbing. He shouldn't have stayed out all night at the Pearl, but some of the workers who were rebuilding the parts of the palace had asked him to go with them. He hadn't wanted to say no. He had wanted a night to relax. It had been a nice fun night with no one at the Pearl besides the workers recognizing him as the king. Quill's shrill, demanding voice was agony to his ears. Quill was his personal servant. Even though he didn't need one, Eamon and Teagan had assisted that he get one. He preferred to dress himself and wake himself up in the mornings. He didn't need someone to remind him of meetings and audiences. But then suddenly he did. The toll of running the city these past few months had caught up to him and he was thankful for Quill's presence.

Denerim was in the process of being rebuilt. Alistair had held off on reconstructing the palace last. He wanted the citizens homes rebuilt first. What good was a king if his people suffered while he wallowed in luxury? Many had argued against him, but eventually he won over the vote and construction was started on the most destroyed sections first. The Alienage, Fort Drakon and the Marketplace were the first areas to be reworked and buildings restored. Afterwards, unless the nobles paid for it out of their own pockets, were the finer districts of the city. The nobles had grumbled about spending their money, but it was good for the economy. Carpenters, wood crafters, and architects were in high demand and anyone that was capable of physical labor had a job.

Though it had only been two months after the Archdemon had been destroyed and Denerim reduced to near rumble the city was thriving again. Many people thanked Alistair, though in truth he thanked the people of the city. There was still construction going on in many parts, but the palace construction had started a few days ago. The workers were friendly and Alistair was more than willing to help. Often he could be found working side by side the workers in the city. He had gotten to know the people and their troubles. He knew only one thing if he had to be king then he would at least try to be a good one. And that meant knowing his subjects.

The door to his room crashed open and footsteps thundered toward the bed.

"Please, His Majesty isn't decent."

"Don't care." A familiar female voice snapped just as ice cold water slapped across Alistair's exposed chest and soaked into his bed linens.

"Dammit!" he roared jumping up tossing the pillow and sopping wet blanket and sheets away from his body. He hadn't bothered to wear a shirt to bed, most nights he slept in long cotton pants which were now soaked through. And it was freezing cold water too. He looked at a quivering Quill who just wrung his hands in distress.

"I'll fetch you some fresh clothes." The elf muttered hurrying away to the armoire tucked into the corner of the room. Alistair's eyes focused on the figure holding a wooden pail in one hand. His eyes narrowed.

"What in the Void was that all about, Shirl?" He asked shaking water from his hands.

She shrugged and sat the bucket on the floor. "You have an appointment that you can't be late for, _Your Majesty._" Her voice dripped with sacarasm. "Teagan sent me to make certain you were up and moving." She shrugged again as she walked pass him and started stripping the linens from the bed.

"So you decided to dump a bucket of cold water on me." He asked he shivered as his body started to take chill from his damp clothes.

Shirl smiled up at him from her work of rolling up the blankets and sheets. "Nope, I decided to do that after he told me you spent all night out at the Pearl." Alistair gaped at her.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Please, it's not like it was hard to figure out. I didn't even have to ask Teagan just told me."

"Going to have to speak to him about that." Alistair replied crossing his arms trying to absorb some of the warmth his body might still be radiating.

Shirl laughed and walked up to him with a smile still splitting her lips, but her eyes told a different story. He stared for a moment uncertain. He glanced at Quill muttering and cursing over what Alistair should wear from this meeting. Her amber eyes were warm, but they held a spark of sadness to them too. Sadness he had put there. "Shirl," he whispered reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Her eyes narrowed and she stepped back tucking the lock of hair behind her ear on her own. "I didn't do anything, but drink. Nothing else happened, promise."

And just like that her brief flash of vulnerability was gone. "What do I care what His Majesty does in his spare time." She huffed and then walked pass him. "You have a meeting in half an hour with the Bann of Denerim. As your advisor and General of your armies I suggest not being late." Her arms were full of linens, but he couldn't bear the thought of her being upset with him over something that hadn't happen. She had thought he was at the Pearl purchasing pleasure. It shocked him that she thought so little of him. After everything they had been through, did she really think that he could cast his love aside for her with just a snap of his fingers?

"Shirl, wait," He said grabbing her elbow gently. She didn't turn toward him. They had stopped being lovers a little over two months ago, but that didn't mean that he didn't care. In fact he had went all the way to Highever to ask her to marry him. But she had declined. It had taken every inch of willpower he had to climb back down those tower steps, but he had. Before he left Highever, he had asked her to come back to Denerim to be his adviser and General of his armies as was her place. She had looked ready to say 'no' but then she had agreed. He didn't understand. He still wanted her to be his wife, but he also knew that she needed time and space. He had given her these two months. As much as he had hated to do so he had backed away. It was one of the reasons he had started helping with the construction around Denerim, he had needed something to do beside sit in meetings and stare at her. Or listen to nobles who knew nothing about the people they governed. Shirl hadn't objected to him helping, in fact she encouraged his wanting to help. She had even threatened a few nobles with violence if they didn't agree to also help.

He didn't understand her. One minute she could smile at him like they were the only two in the world and the next she was dumping cold water on him, literally and figuratively. They hadn't spoken of the night in which he had slept with Morrigan in order to spare Shirl's life, and they hadn't discussed her decision to return to Denerim either. They hadn't had a moment alone since Highever. Shirl was too cunning. She avoided being alone with him. Even now Quill was in the room.

"Quill," Alistair said loudly enough to make the elf jump. "Could you give us a moment, please."

"But, Your Majesty, you are soaked and you have a meeting. Not to mention it's highly improper for a young woman such as Lady Cousland to be seen alone with you." Quill stated before turning to face Alistair. The elf wrung his hands again. Alistair sighed and ran a free hand through his hair.

"Just a moment, I'm not going to sully her in a few minutes." Alistair quipped.

The wicked gleam in Shirl's eyes caught his attention. And the corner of her mouth twitched. He desperately wanted to know what she had to say, but she would keep her mouth shut in front of Quill. They were just two old traveling companions nothing more. They were friends. They had defeated the Blight together. That was all anyone thought about them. Shirl had made certain it was all people thought. She spun a nice web of tales and lies to cover their affair. Mostly to protect him he had noticed. His chest felt heavy at the term 'affair'. He hadn't thought of it as that. _Does she?_ The thought was unbidden and he hoped it was not the case.

Quill nodded. "Very well, Your Majesty." He mumbled exiting hastily shutting the door behind him.

"You can let go now." Shirl said tugging her arm away from him.

Alistair sighed and walked toward his armoire. He was shivering noticeably now. He needed something dry to wear. Now to mention he had no idea where to start the conversation he wanted to have with Shirl. Didn't matter she apparently had no problems jumping right in.

"What do you thinking you are doing?" She snapped tossing his still wet sheets and blankets to the floor.

"Getting dressed, someone just happened to dump water on me this morning. I'm wet and cold. Logic would dictate I put on dry clothes." He replied. "Of course I could just continue to stand here freezing until you decided to drop the frigid act and warm me up."

"You idiot," she hissed. "You can't do this, Alistair. And that's not what a meant by what are you doing. I meant this," he glanced over his shoulder to see her gesture between him and her. "We shouldn't be alone."

"Why afraid something might come of it?" He winked at her and he delighted in watching her cheeks turn red. Though he wasn't certain if it was angry red or blushing bride red. He was betting on the later. She looked pissed.

"No, nothing will come of it, especially since you spent the night out at the Pearl. No, thank you." She snapped crossing her arms. Alistair felt his own anger rise to the surface.

"Really? You think that after everything you get the right to get angry with me. Maker, Shirl you don't get it still do you? I didn't do anything, but drink. I couldn't and I wouldn't. Yet, where do you get off being upset with me if I did. You do realize I will have to sleep with someone else eventually, right? I will be forced to marry sooner or later. Probably sooner given the whole produce an heir within a viable time frame and everything. What will you do then?"

Shirl opened her mouth to reply then stopped staring at him with fury and hurt written in her eyes. She didn't know what she would do. Alistair could see that now. She hadn't thought that far ahead. Yes, she knew deep down that he would have to marry some who could possibly give him an heir. And he wanted that someone to be her. But her stubbornness and their fate as Grey Wardens it seemed conspired against him.

"It could still be you." He whispered. He turned fully to face her as he leaned back against the wardrobe crossing his arms. He was still cold, but it could wait. His eyes focused only on Shirl, even his headache was forgotten.

She stared at him and then looked away toward the floor eying up the pile of sheets. "No, it can't." She said nudging the pile with her foot.

"Why not?" he asked the question that had been plaguing him for two months. "Why won't you? And don't feed me that crap about us being Grey Wardens." She flinched.

"But it's the truth, Alistair. We can't pretend the truth doesn't exist. We can't ignore the fact of whom and what we are. Right now, I'm waiting on word from Weisshaupt. Once I hear from them, I'll be gone."

"What? You're leaving?" Alistair hadn't heard that, she hadn't told him anything._ But then when would she have? She had been avoiding me._ "And when did you plan on telling me?"

She shrugged and looked up at him. "Never, actually. I'm a Grey Warden. I made that choice. I plan on staying with the Wardens."

Alistair nodded, but he couldn't accept that she would really be gone. In a way, it would be like she was dead. "But, I thought…" he started and stopped.

"You thought what?" She didn't sound mean or upset just curious. He couldn't look away from her as he said the words that might push her away from him forever, but he had to say them.

"I thought you and I were forever." He whispered gently. "I wanted this to last, Shirl. I wanted us to last. If I get one thing out of this I wanted that."

Shirl's eyes widened and she couldn't hide the surprise and joy in them. But just like the sadness he had glimpsed earlier it was fleeting a butterfly flapping it's wings for the last time. "I thought so too." She whispered back. Then she turned and walked out of his room leaving him shivering with not just the cold.


	3. Chapter 2

_Thank you the favorites, alerts and followers of this story. Just an FYI I changed the rating to 'T' and will give a warning at the beginning of the chapter if the content for the chapter changes. Mostly everything I write is safe for teens and up, but I still think there might be a chapter or two that goes into the 'M' rating. Anyway, once again thanks for reading and enjoy! Another update will be posted next week about the same time unless I get finished with it sooner. : )_**  
**

_PE  
_

**Chapter 2**

Alistair slouched in his chair. The elven Bann, Cyrion Tabris, from the Alienage rolled his eyes at him and he had to stifle a laugh behind his hand. The newly appointed Arl of Denerim, Vaughan Urien . He was greedy and grabby with his hands, literally and figuratively. The Bann of the Alienage was not happy that several of his people had complained to him about the Arl of the city. Alistair had heard the Arl liked to take Elven women by force and if any ever stood up to him he punished them severely. Bruises and broken bones were the least of the injuries he had been told about. Though so far Alistair did not have enough evidence to bring the Arl before the Landsmeet, he could make the Arl's life miserable and he would be held accountable for some of his past offenses. The disagreement between the Bann and the Arl had escalated enough that Alistair felt he could step in and mediate between the two factions. Though he loathed meetings like this, he did enjoy the elven elder's moments of humor on behalf of the Arl of Denerim.

"Your Majesty, can't be serious about this arrangement. Letting at elf play at being nobility is one thing, but this…" Vaughan gestured disgust apparent on his face.

Alistair bristled and sat straighter. "I'm completely serious in this regard. The elves should have just as much rights as anyone else in this city. If you had paid human workers the same attention and wages you do your elven staff then we would not be having this discussion because you would not still be Arl of Denerim. Poor working conditions and wages does not make for happy workers."

Shirl slipped into the room and stood at the door. She crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame, watching him. Alistair blinked and focused back on the situation at hand. "Pay the fine and back wages to your workers and servants, and if I hear of this again." Alistair stated coming to his feet. "You'll have more to worry about than a couple of fines and back wages to pay. In fact I'm still considering putting it before the Landsmeet to have you officially removed."

"Your Majesty, you can't!" Vaughan shouted also coming to his feet. His chair crashed to the floor behind him. Alistair's eyes flickered over him and then to Shirl who had pushed off the door and was making her way toward the table and the upset Arl. Alistair shook his head making a subtle gesture for her to stay back. He could handle this. If Shirl got involved it would end very poorly. She already wanted to beat the crap out of Vaughan for his treatment of his female servants, both human and elf.

"I can and will." Alistair said calmly. Walking by Arl Vaughan and up to Shirl. She raised an eyebrow at him and then glared at Vaughan. His face was red with anger, and he was sputtering. "Elder, if he gives your people anymore grief let me know. Or let Lady Cousland know and we will take care of it."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." The elf bowed toward Alistair and Shirl. Vaughan looked like he was ready to spit fire. Alistair smiled and nodded his head at both the elf and the Arl.

"Your Majesty! You can't mean..." Vaughan started but sputtered to a stop as his eyes landed on Shirl. He muttered something under his breath.

"Pay the fines or pack your bags, Vaughan. Your choice." Alistair stated shrugging nonchalantly. Though he felt his blood boiling at the Arl's embittered tone.

Alistair turned and offered his arm to Shirl, who looked at him and then spun and exited the room in front of him. He chuckled dropping his hand and following her out.

"I'm guessing there is a reason you dropped by my meeting this morning?" Alistair asked Shirl as she slowed to walk beside him.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Yes, I did, but seeing that nug-humper in there. He's such a pig, Alistair, how can you let him rule the Arling of Denerim. Ugh! He's vile." She paused and Alistair smiled at her. "You know I know a good assassin. That little prick could be dead within the week."

"At least your temper is focused on someone else besides me for once." He quipped nudging her with his elbow. She elbowed him back a grin splitting her beautiful face. "Besides Vaughan did support my bid for king if I remember correctly."

Shirl sighed and rolled her eyes. "He did, but that doesn't mean his a good Arl. One good decision doesn't make up for a life time of horrible ones."

He shook his head. "True. And trust me I would love to 'get rid' of him, but I can't just go around killing every noble that's a pig. There would be no nobles left." He sidestepped to avoid her half-hearted attempt at swatting his arm. Chuckling he asked, "So what's so important that you would submit yourself to Vaughan's presence?"

"Knight-Commander Greagoir and First Enchanter Irving have arrived." Shirl said. Her voice was low and concern knitted her brow. "This can go well or very poorly, Alistair." She stopped and touched his arm. Her fingers were warm even through the fabric of his shirt. His heart picked up speed. He wanted to touch her back. Actually he wanted to push that stray lock of hair which fell into her eyes behind her ear. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted much more than a simple kiss. Looking down into her amber colored eyes, he licked his lips.

"You're worried." He stated simply trying to shift his thoughts back to the business at hand.

Shirl nodded and lowered her voice again. "Alistair, you're taking a big risk doing this. If word got out about what you are planning." He placed a finger to her lips.

"I'm just meeting with them. There's no harm in that." She pushed his hand away and shook her head.

"You don't know that. I'm serious, Alistair. We start sticking our noses into Chantry business…"

"We? Last I checked I was the one that wanted to meet with them. Not you, in fact I believe that you are telling me not to right at this very moment." Alistair watched her. She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath.

"Alistair," she breathed. Her breath was warm and sweet. "You know what I mean." She whispered stepping back from him. Her fingers slipped from his arm. He missed the sudden warmth.

"So you're willing to go with me to this meeting?" He asked starting to walk again.

Shirl shrugged as she caught up to him. "Do I really have a choice? I mean, I am the Hero of Ferelden I made you king I should at least support your ideas and decisions."

Alistair chuckled. "Is that what you think? Last I checked I killed Lohgain and accepted the Landsmeet's decision to make me king." Shirl rolled her eyes.

"Sure, live your delusions." It was moments like this that he missed her the most. They were comfortable with each other. He didn't understand why she refused to see it. Why she still refused him? It was frustrating and teeth grinding when she was like this. They were friends he knew that, but it still hurt when he thought about what they use to have. They had been so much more. They could still be, if she would let them.

"I like my delusions. They're better than reality, most of the time." Alistair replied they were nearing the end of the hallway. He would be greeting the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander shortly. Shirl would stand by him in this endeavor, but that didn't mean she wasn't right. He was taking a big risk. If his proposal went through it would change the make of the Circle of Magi, it could alter the course of history, good or bad. But he had to try.


	4. Chapter 3

_Thanks to everyone for the favorites and alerts. Well this chapter just didn't want cooperate. A part of me just wants to get to the main point of the story, but I need to set a little background, but Alistair fluff is always good. It's cute and sweet nothing really explicit. Enjoy, next chapter has alright been started and I'm excited to be getting to the interesting part of the story. Well enjoy! And Happy Reading!  
_

_PE  
_

**Chapter 3**

"I don't know, Your Majesty." Irving fingered his beard and glanced over at Knight-Commander Greagoir. The Knight-Commander's face was blank showing none of what he could possibly be thinking. "It seems plausible in theory, but," he looked up at Greagoir waiting for the other man's response to Alistair's proposal.

Alistair didn't think his idea for restructuring the Circle of Magi was too ridiculous in fact it was a very sensible idea. The only problem was getting it past Greagoir. The Knight-Commander was a good man who did care about the people under his charge both Templars and mages. Alistair had worked with Wynne for the several weeks on his plan for the Circle. They had both agreed that the Chantry and Templars were needed to still protect the mages of the Circle, but Alistair also believed there was a better way to treat the mages. They were people, grant it people with amazing and potentially dangerous powers, but people none the less. He wanted them treated as such. Parents should not be afraid to send their children off to the Circle to learn to use their Maker given powers. Wynne agreed with him. So Alistair had come up with the plan of making the Circle more like a school. Older enchanters as instructors helping new mages learn the ropes. Templars were to be guards serving as protectors not jailers. The Chantry would still have a presence and say in the matters of the Circle, but mages would be given more freedom to study and learn as they wished. Big thing was to try and discourage the use of blood and demonic magics. That would be up to the First enchanter and Knight-Commander on how they wanted to punish those that broke the laws or rules.

"Alistair, isn't asking for you to make a decision at this moment. He's simply asking for you all to think about it." Wynne spoke up folding her hands together on the table. Alistair nodded to the older woman. Irving and Greagoir both looked over at her.

"You agreed with the king on this, Wynne?" Irving asked still fingering his beard in thought. Wynne nodded. Irving sighed and looked at Greagoir again. "I will at least think on it. What about you, Greagoir?"

The Knight-Commander's face was still impassive. He crossed his arms with a clank of armor and eyed up the four people in the room. Alistair felt like he was being judged. The light colored eyes of the Templar's gaze fell on him and then quickly shifted to Wynne and finally rest on Shirl, who had been silent throughout the entire presentation.

"What do you think of this, Lady Cousland?" The Knight-Commander asked gruffly.

Shirl shook her head. "I'm will Wynne and Alistair on this. I think the Circle as a school or a place of learning where Mages aren't afraid to go to study is a good idea in theory, but you won't know the full effect until you try."

Greagoir nodded, frowning. "The Divine will have to be alerted of these plans. But I will think on what exactly I plan on saying my opinions of this project could be. You have all made a good point, but I will need time to think of my decision."

"That's all we ask." Wynne said thankfully.

Alistair stood up and bowed his head to both Irving and Greagoir. "I, thank you both, for coming all this way to speak with us. I will have someone show you to your rooms."

"That won't be necessary, Alistair. I will show both Greagoir and Irving to their rooms." Wynne supplied standing up as well. "I would also love for both of them to dine with me this evening so that we may discuss my returning to the Circle."

Irving and Greagoir both nodded to Wynne and then stood as well, bowing toward Alistair. "Thank you for your hospitality, Your Majesty." Irving intoned politely. He, Wynne and Geagoir exited the room with brisk, but smooth strides. Alistair watched them until the door closed behind them then he sank down into his chair once more. He felt drained. He glanced at Shirl who was watching the door closely.

"Well, that didn't go as horribly as I thought." Shirl stated stretching her arms above her head.

Alistair shrugged and leaned back. His stomach growled grumpily at him. Shirl stood up and regarded him solemnly. "You should go get something to eat while you can. I think Eamon and Teagan wanted to speak with you after lunch."

Alistair groaned as he stood up. "Why do they need to see me?" He asked hoping that it would be something at least pleasant they would be discussing as he wanted to go down into the city at some point today to help with some of the construction still going on down there.

Shirl rolled her eyes and crossed her arms as she turned to leave the room. "You are unbelievable sometimes, you know that right?"

Alistair followed her out, his stomach grumbled again. "I don't understand. What did I say this time?"

"Eamon and Teagan want to discuss the Orlaisian ambassador's arrival party." Shirl said shortly.

Alistair groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. "I can't believe I forgot about that. She's do to arrive at the end of this week. Weren't Teagan and Eamon planning some type of dance?"

Shirl nodded. "They are planning a masquerade. It's a type of costumed ball that's pretty popular in Orlais."

"Great, so everyone dresses up and dances around in costumes of fantastical creatures or people. Do you think anyone will dress up as you? I mean you are the Hero of Ferelden and all." Alistair wondered out loud. He smiled as Shirl stiffened at his words.

"You better hope no one dresses up as me." She responded dropping her arms to her side. "I don't relish the idea of seeing what people think I would wear."

Alistair nudged her in the ribs. "Calm down, Blight Queller, I was joking."

Shirl sighed. "I know you were, but there are quite a few nobles who I wouldn't put it pass them to try something ridiculous like that." Alistair saw her shoulders slump. "For all the good I've done to help Ferelden, people will still find me lacking."

Alistair shook his head. Shirl wasn't lacking anything, well, maybe tack, but she was use to people trying to play games. She liked being blunt because that way few people could twist her words around on her. Most took her a face value. Something fierce and protective rose up in him at the thought of anyone ridiculing her. She was the slayer of the Archdemon, a Grey Warden who united the races of Ferelden together to stand against the Blight. No one else could have pulled something together like that but her. She was tough and kind in the same breath. She was his rock.

"Alistair, I want you to promise me something?" Shirl asked suddenly stepping into his path. He stopped looking down at her.

"What?"

"Promise me that if anything happens to me, you'll move on, don't linger in self-doubt or look for a way to avenge me. Just do the best you can for Ferelden." Shirl's eyes met his and his breath caught in his throat. He canted his head. What was she saying?

"What are you talking about? If something happens to you? Nothing is going to…" She placed a hand over his mouth forestalling the rest of his protest.

"All the more reason you can promise me this." He regarded her serious expression and sighed. Pushing her hand away from his lips, he replied. He held her hand in his loving the warmth of it.

"Very well, if you think it will matter. I promise not to go crazy if something were to happen to you. There, happy? Now can I go get something to eat before I waste away to nothing." Shirl smiled. It wasn't forced, but a touch of sadness crept into her eyes.

_ What is wrong with her?_ Alistair wondered thoroughly confused by Shirl's strange request. She looped her arm through his a gesture of friendliness that she had not shown in a while. "Is it all right if I join you for lunch at least for a bit?" She asked. Alistair smiled and then crinkled his nose.

"Really, you would humble yourself long enough to eat with me? I feel _honored._" Shirl laughed and swatted his arm playfully. This was more like old times. He had wondered where this Shirl had been hiding these past few weeks. But even as they walked he got the feeling there was more to this little act of hers than met the eye. Shirl was good at manipulating people into getting what she wanted. Alistair had a sense there was something going on that she wasn't telling him. And he didn't like the idea one bit.


	5. Chapter 4

****_So I've had a week of where I really just want to write this story. I've finished writing Chapter 5 just need to edit and upload. For some reason the pacing on Chapter 5 ran away with me. Anyway, Chapter 4 was fun to write, if not a little frustrating. In my head I know where this is going, but for the life of me the characters seem to walk away from me. Ugh! Anyway, thanks for the alerts and favorites. I also appreciate reviews too. Thanks and enjoy!  
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_PE  
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**Chapter 4**

The rest of the week flew by for Alistair. Between meetings, paperwork, court, and helping the workers in the castle as well as in the rest of the city, Alistair was busy. He met with Eamon and Teagan on a daily basis to hash out ideas and plans for the Orlaisian Ambassador's arrival. The masquerade seemed to consume most of the Bann and Arl's time. Eamon's wife, Isolde was helping both of the men with the finer or overlooked details of the welcoming ball. Alistair was glad he didn't have to really worry about it. He would show up for a couple of hours, eat a little, drink a little, talk a lot and then leave. Probably to do more paperwork.

The only person he rarely saw was Shirl. She didn't wake him up in the mornings with a cold bucket of water; she didn't stop by for lunch or dinner either. The only time he caught a glimpse of her was when he held court which she helped preside over that was until Alistair found a suitable wife who would then preside over court with him. Whispers flocked around the court as more nobles started arriving into the city for the welcoming ball of the Orlaisian Ambassador. Alistair noticed his guard details around the castle had been doubled and even his guards when he entered the city to work on repairing the damage from the darkspawn seemed to grown in number. Shirl was in charge with Oghren of his guards. He had a growing hunch that was turning into full blown suspicion that something was amiss.

On the day before the Ambassador was due to arrive; Alistair was finally able to catch Shirl alone for a moment. She was in her office standing behind her desk. Her head was bent down as she scanned an array of documents scattered across the desk's surface. Her door was open which meant that she either had an upcoming meeting scheduled or she was planning on leaving her office soon. He took a moment to study her. Her light silver blonde hair was braided back away from her rosy face. Her amber eyes darted left and right as she read. Her full lips were pressed together in a tight line. Whatever she was reading was not making her happy. A line of concentration etched on her forehead. Her hands were placed on her desk and she leaned on them with varying degrees of pressure. She was really not happy. Even then he still found her beautiful. Heat swept through his body and he took a moment to calm himself down before stepping into her office.

Alistair rapped his knuckles on the door frame. Shirl's head jerked up as he entered. And he smiled as he had caught her off guard.

"Alistair, what are you doing here?" She asked her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

He pointed a thumb at his chest. "First of all, King so I can anywhere I really want, and secondly I was wondering if we could talk for a moment?" He said casually as he sat down in the chair in front of her desk.

"For how long? I was planning on leaving shortly. I have an appointment with Oghren about some guard arrangements." She said pushing herself back from her desk to cross her arms.

Alistair nodded frowning. The cold duty driven Shirl was back, the friendly warm Shirl from earlier in the week was buried back underneath the icy exterior. He sighed and looked up at her. "See that's one of things I was wondering about. The extra guard around the castle and me, what's going on?"

Shirl rolled her eyes. "Precautions, Alistair, with the Ambassador due to arrive any day I wanted the guards familiar with their new assigned post while the Ambassador is staying with us. The security of the Orlaisian ambassador is top priority, next yours. But I've increased security around you because you have a bad habit of going into the city without telling anyone and without guards. I figured more eyes, less likely the chance of you disappearing on my watch."

Alistair pointed at himself again. "King." He stated simply smiling. He enjoyed teasing her way too much. Though she did have some valid points about the increase to his guard and those around the castle, he could tell she was still keeping something from him. Shirl rolled her eyes at his behavior.

"Very mature. King you may be, but that doesn't mean that you can do just wherever you want whenever you want. You have to think about your safety." Now it was Alistair's turn to roll his eyes.

"I trust my people. And they trust me. If I keep showing up with an armed escort they are going to think that I don't." Shirl massaged the bridge of nose.

"Alistair,"

He shook his head. "Don't, I don't need the lecture from you too. You've encouraged me to go out in the past. What's changed?"

"Nothing." Shirl said quickly then she sighed and dropped the hand her face. "Look, I'm just being careful with the nobles coming in from all across Ferelden we can't be too safe. Many of the ones coming, to greet the Ambassador, sided with Loghain during the Blight. They still believe that Anora should be queen. We have to tread carefully."

Alistair crossed his arms watching her carefully. She chewed her bottom lip before dropping her head to look at the papers scattered across her desk. She sighed. "Just be careful. I have to go." She pushed away from the desk, grabbing her sword from the back of the chair she belted it on.

Alistair stood as she walked past. He reached out and hooked an arm around her waist. He turned her toward him. Looking down into her amber eyes, he searched her face for what she might have been hiding from him.

"Shirl," her eyes widened at his audacious behavior, but he didn't care. He wanted the truth from her. "What is going on?"

She shook her head and glared at him. "Nothing. Now let me go so I can go do my job." She shoved away from him. Alistair groaned inwardly as he watched her walk away. Shirl was cold, but she only was this way when something was bothering her. Something she couldn't control.

* * *

Alistair left Shirl's office and stalked down the halls back to his own. As he entered a two heads swiveled to regard him intently.

"Your Majesty," Bann Teagan bowed formally.

"Alistair," Arl Eamon nodded in his direction.

_Great, two men I don't want to see right now._ "What can I do for you, Teagan, Eamon?" Alistair asked moving past them and around his desk. Pulling out his chair he sat heavily down and kicked his feet up resting them on the desk arms behind his head.

Teagan and Eamon both shared a look. That he swore was the common pain at having to deal with their uncouth king. Alistair smiled at them as he continued to stare up at the ceiling. _I wonder if I could get out of the castle today?_ He had an itch to be down in the city working. Maybe he could devise a way to sneak past Shirl's guards and go to the Pearl. They had cheap beer and whiskey that he liked. He really didn't mind hanging out with the 'common' people in fact he rather hang out at the Pearl than at any of the other fine establishments in Denerim.

"Alistair, are you paying attention?" Eamon asked sharply jolting him from his thoughts of planned escaped and relaxation.

"What? Oh yes, I'm certain whatever colors, hmm, or foods you have picked out will be suitable." Alistair replied looking at both of them again.

They shared another look before a tight lipped smile spread across Teagan's face just as Eamon's turned a lovely shade of red. "Your Majesty, I was saying that the Orlaisian ambassador's entourage has arrived early."

"What?" Alistair took his feet off his desk and straightened up. Folding his hands together on the desk top, he stared at them in disbelief. "How? When?"

Eamon cleared his throat before answering. "Apparently they arrived late last night. The ambassador didn't want to bother anyone so she stayed the night at an inn in town. She sent a messenger this morning to let us know that she had arrived safely."

Alistair stood. "Then we should go and greet her properly." Alistair started out the door. Just as he placed his hand on the handle, Teagan pulled him up short.

"Your Majesty, Lady Cousland has already seen to the ambassador's rooms. We just came to inform you that the ambassador wishes to speak with you whenever you are available. She would also like to keep her arrival down played until the Masquerade." Teagan replied while Eamon rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation. People seemed to be doing that a lot around him lately.

"Lady Cousland handled it? And why would she not want her arrival announced?" Alistair looked back and forth between Eamon and Teagan both with blank looks on their faces. "What's going on? And don't try to tell me everything is fine. I know it's not."

Teagan glanced over his shoulder to his brother waiting to receive instruction from Eamon on whether or not to proceed. Eamon sighed and nodded.

Teagan nodded back and removed his hand from Alistair's arm. "Lady Cousland has uncovered a plot to have the Orlaisian ambassador assassinated."

"What? Assassinated? When? How" Alistair fumbled with the thought. "Why?"

Teagan hesitated a moment before answering crossing his arms over his chest. "Lady Cousland is working out the details, but what it points to is someone is looking to start a war with Orlais."

Alistair's eyes narrowed as he regarded Teagan and Eamon. "Who would do such a thing? We're still recovering from the Blight!" Anger, hot and boiling, rose to the surface. His face grew warm with the rush of his outrage. "And why didn't Shirl tell me?" He gritted his teeth together. _So that's why she's been acting all cold and increased the security._

Teagan didn't flinch from Alistair's anger, but he did take a step back. "Your Majesty, Lady Cousland, didn't tell us why she hasn't told you. Maybe because you have been terribly busy and she thought she could handle it before it escalated."

Alistair shook his head. _This is ridiculous._ He fumed. Grabbing the door handle again, he threw the door open and stalked out.

"Your Majesty, where are you going?" Teagan called after him.

"To cool off!"


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Alistair swung his sword around severing the wooden practice dummy's head. The wooden head hit the ground with a satisfying thud. Alistair's breath was heavy with his work out. He had been practicing swatting at the dummies for about two hours. He knew that he had probably missed some important meeting or other, but he didn't care. He didn't really think he could a run a kingdom right now. Right now, he was thinking too much with his heart and not with his head.

_Shirl, what were you thinking?_ He thought for the millionth time. She had a plan. But still the sting of her not involving him, especially when it was something as big as an assassination plot….he found that his rage was past the boiling point. He shuffled to the right and started hacking at the next poor dummy. His sword fell heavily several times with chunks of wood flying by his face. He slammed his shield forward into the dummy pushed off spinning away from his target. He swept his sword putting extra force into the slash.

THUD. Another head successfully severed. He paused grinning down at the head. Sweat beaded on his forehead and was running down his back drenching his shirt.

A solitary clapping came from the spectator fence off to his right. He pivoted and saw a young pretty black haired woman standing at the fence watching him. "That was impressive." Her voice held the lilt of an Orlaisian accent.

Alistair stared at the woman for a beat before blushing deeply. He hadn't thought anyone was watching him. Sweat dripped from his face onto the ground. "Thanks." He said causally looking down at his sword.

"You have skills that would rival the chevaliers of Orlais." She commented ducking under the fence to join him.

Alistair shrugged at the praise. "I'm honored, milady, by your compliment."

She laughed a sweet sound that sounded like the chiming of silver bells. Alistair's blushed deepened. "You are too formal. I'm simply a handmaiden in service to Duchess Lorres Argent."

Alistair blinked and looked back up at the woman now standing in front of him. "You serve the Orlaisian ambassador?" Confusion clearly written on his face and voice.

"Yes," She smiled at him then she winked. "Milady wishes for her handmaids to be familiar with the castle and its grounds. I must say that the gardens in and around the courtyard are quite beautiful."

"Yes, I suppose they are. Though you are not seeing Denerim at its best. We are still rebuilding from the Blight." Alistair replied with a roll of his shoulders he moved over to the weapons rack.

"Oh, you are not finished for the day are you? I much enjoyed watching you practice." The woman trilled.

Alistair paused in putting up his shield. "I've been practicing for at least two hours."

She laughed again and walked over the weapons rack. "Against wooden dummies, would you like to try your hand against a real opponent?" She raised a delicately arched eyebrow at him.

Swallowing he regarded her attire. She was dressed in a simple tunic and leggings with sturdy flat shoes, not boots he noticed. She was tall not as tall as Shirl, but just as slender with slightly larger breasts. Alistair looked away from her chest and closed his eyes. Hopefully she hadn't noticed him leering at her.

"Well?" she asked again grabbing a sword from the practice rack and giving it a twirl testing its balance and weight.

Alistair opened his eyes and shrugged. "Why not?"

"Excellent!" She stepped back holding her long blade with her right hand. A look of determination swept across her heart shaped face. Alistair chuckled and replaced his shield on the rack.

"It's been a while since I've worked without a shield," He commented circling around her. Her eyes danced with amusement as they followed him. Her eyes were really pretty a light blue almost the same color as the sky. _Why am I noticing her eyes?_ He thought just as she lunged. He parried the blow and took a step back deflecting the next lunge easily. He smiled. "That was soppy." He tsked planting his foot he feinted like he was going to pivot before sweeping his blade upwards taking her blade with his.

She grinned and smiled back. "I'm just getting warmed up, mon cher." She whispered as she kicked out with her left foot hitting him in the stomach. She jumped back letting their blades disengage.

Alistair rubbed his stomach were she had kicked him. "Not bad." He mumbled. He would have a bruise in the morning. He raised his blade again. Stepping forward he slashed at her stomach. She jumped back trying to parry the swing. Alistair smiled as he reversed his blade mid swing and slapped her unguarded side.

"Ouch," She hissed and then blinked up at him. "You actually hit me." She didn't seem outraged or upset just confused.

Alistair brow crinkled in misunderstanding itself. "Yes, that's how you practice. You over commit, by the way, that's why that attack worked on you."

The woman nodded and smiled. "It's not that. I'm not use to this sort of practice, I haven't been hit it a while."

"Meaning?"

"I was chosen to accompany milady because I'm one of the best swordswomen in Orlais." She stated simply. There was a hint of pride in her eyes as they squared off against each other again.

Alistair chuckled as she lunged again and he parried. "Yes, but I'm use to fighting against the Hero of Ferelden. And she holds nothing back straight out."

"You? Practice with the Hero of Ferelden?" She seemed genuinely interested. Alistair shrugged as he dodged another of her swings.

"Yes, I knew her before she was the Hero of Ferelden."

"There are many who would claim such as you. How do you know her?"

"We travelled together to stop the Blight." Alistair lunged at an obvious opening she had left him. Just as she started to grin he knew he had her. He drew back just enough to connect the flat side of his blade to her sword arm. He slapped it knocking the sword from her hand.

A look of confusion crossed her face as she stared at her weapon on lying in the dirt. "You're one of the Hero's companions?" She eyed him up as he bent over to retrieve her sword.

He didn't answer as he handed her back her weapon. He turned away then heading toward the weapons rack.

"Wait, who are you? We never properly introduced ourselves." She asked coming to stand next to him.

Alistair sighed and replaced his weapon. "I'm glad we didn't introduce ourselves because then you wouldn't have wanted to spar with me." He canted his head watching for her reaction.

She waved a hand in front of face and smiled still. She had a pretty smile with dimples. "No, no, no, I enjoyed this. It was entertaining and enlightening to practice with you. I don't think knowing who you are would change that. Even if you helped stop the Blight."

Alistair looked at her a moment longer before replying. "Very well, if you don't think it will change anything. My name's Alistair. I'm the King of Ferelden." The title still sounded strange to his ears like he was making it up.

Her eyes widened at his reply. And he waited for the evitable groveling and apologies to spill forth. What he was not expecting was the laughter. Bright and cheerful.

"Oh that's just great! I sparred with the King of Ferelden. Well done, Celina, well done." She doubled over holding her sides.

Alistair looked around baffled. "Are you all right?"

The woman shook her head laughing still. "No, yes, I think so. Just give me a moment, please." Her laughter passed and she straightened wiping at her eyes. "Sorry, it's just so like me and my big mouth to end up sparring with the King. I feel like I should apologize for my behavior, mon cher, but I…" She bit her lip to keep from laughing again.

"What is so funny?"

"Forgive me," She bowed to him her voice cheerful and light. "I'm Celina Monte, handmaiden to Duchness Lorres Argent Ambassador of Orlais." She straightened from her bow and winked at him. "I hope you don't mind if I don't go into the lengthy and unnecessary titles for milady. She isn't present at the moment and I don't wish to bore you, Your…"

"Just call me Alistair, Celina." Alistair waved his hand at her and found himself smiling back at her. She was really pretty when she smiled. "And I honestly should be going. I'm certain Eamon and Teagan probably have search parties out looking for me."

Celina raised an eyebrow at his comment, but remained silent. "Well, then I shouldn't keep you waiting. I hopefully will be seeing you around, Alistair. And it was certainly nice meeting you. If it's not to forward of me, perhaps we can do this again sometime."

Alistair nodded to her. "I would like that, Celina."


	7. Chapter 6

_Hello Readers! Thank you for the reviews, alerts, and favorites. This chapter was fun, heart-wrenching and crazy to write. Hopefully you all with enjoy it. I have the chapter ready to go. I will apologize in advance for the ending of this chapter...it's a bit...well you'll see. Have fun and thanks for reading! Enjoy!_**  
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_PE  
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**Chapter 6**

The music swelled in a blazing cacophony of sound before the song ended abruptly. Alistair stood applauding the musicians along with the rest of the dancers. He had been sitting on his throne taking a short break from the dancing and talking. A few couples had approached him wanting to be acknowledged by their king. Alistair's eyes scanned the crowd looking for familiar faces. He recognized a few people.

Teagan was dressed as Rivaini pirate and he stood talking with two young noblewomen who were dressed as two brightly colored birds, one in a red and black gown with red feathers in her hair and the other blue and black with blue feathers. The two had to be related, possibly sisters even their masks were the same and they didn't seem to mind. Alistair didn't envy Teagan in the least. The two women were obviously flirting with him.

Alistair sighed and sat back down as the musicians started playing a lively tune. He had danced once with Isolde and what a horrid moment that had been. He really wasn't in the mood for dancing. His thoughts were spinning from his meeting with the Orlaisian ambassador. A friendly woman, chatty, but it bothered him that she and all her handmaidens wore masks. When he questioned her about it, she had replied that it was Orlaisian fashion and culture. Alistair couldn't even tell which of the handmaidens had been Celina. All looked very similar with dark hair and gray green dresses. He had been disappointed to not see Celina or at least not recognize her. Even now he looked over at the Orlaisian ambassador's table he couldn't tell which one she was. The ambassador herself was easy to pick out dressed in peacock feathers and a rich blue and gold gown. Her black hair was piled on her head in curls and held up by a beautiful sapphire and emerald hair pin. Her mask was gold and framed with cut blue and green peacock feathers. She stood out above all the other nobly dressed women at least for the richness of her gown.

Eamon and Isolde made their way over to Alistair. The couple were dressed as foxes. Their masks were hammered bronze and shaped to look like that of a fox's snout and ears. Isolde's gown was bronze colored trimmed in black as Eamon's doublet matched her gown though he wore black velvet pants and supple black boots.

"Your Majesty," Eamon bowed slightly at the waist to him.

"Arl Eamon," Alistair nodded to the older man. He stood up and walked down the steps of the dais toward the couple as Isolde curtsied to him. He nodded to her as he reached them.

"Try not to look so bored, Alistair." Eamon suggested lightly.

Alistair shrugged. "This is annoying. I can't recognize anyone." Eamon smiled looking even more like the animal he was portraying.

"That's the point," Eamon stated.

_ At least someone is enjoying themselves._ Alistair thought glumly. He was already tired of this party. The costumes had been interesting at first, but the novelty had worn off.

"Your best bet is to find someone to dance with. Try to enjoy yourself, Alistair, go find someone to talk to or eat with or even drink with, but the point is to be sociable." Isolde added. Her voice was clipped and short like she really didn't want to be talking with him. They had danced together and even if Alistair had helped save her son, she still had something against him. Maybe it was years of thinking that he was Eamon's bastard child instead of Maric's whatever the reason he didn't care anymore, he didn't have too.

He nodded and started away walking toward Orlais' ambassador. He wondered what type of scandal he would cause if he asked Celina to dance. That was if he could pick out which one she was out of the brown and gold peahens that were flocking around the ambassador. The handmaidens were almost as splendidly dressed as Lorres though their colors were drabber and their jewelry not as large and bright.

He was halfway through the crowd of people which were parting before him when he spotted a familiar face. Alistair groaned inwardly as he approached a small group of people, mostly women surrounding a dashing elf dressed as a black and gold crow.

"Well, I helped stop the Blight, yes, and I do personally know the king. As well as the Hero of Ferelden." A heavily accented voice wafted to Alistair's ears from the elf crow. He rolled his eyes and tried to walk pass without drawing too much to away from the elaborate elf. A cluster of sighs mixed with giggles met his ears.

"Oh well, you must be very brave." One of the young women said.

"Not to mention…" the second's voice trailed off. But her reply was followed by an outburst of laughter from Zevran. Alistair shook his head at the elf. If he was trying to remain inconspicuous he wasn't doing a very good job.

_In fact, he might be making himself more of a target by wearing that get up._ Alistair thought darkly as he swept by the group thankfully unnoticed. He was still trying to make his way over to the Orlaisian ambassador's circle. People parted before him once more, bowing or nodding in his direction if they caught his eye. A few even stopped to speak with him, but were immediately averted from their discussions when he simply nodded and started away. Some made rude comments about his actions, but he ignored them he really didn't care about their opinions. Maybe he should have, but he didn't. It was that simple.

After a few more avoided conversations and groups of nobles, he made it to the outer ring of people stationing themselves around Lorres Argent. The musician struck up a slow waltzing tune and many of the group paired off to dance including the ambassador and several of her handmaidens.

"Nug-licker" Alistair swore as a pretty little peahen dressed handmaiden brushed by hanging on the arm of a silver clad knight. Sighing he started away. He had intended to take Eamon's advice and try and enjoy himself at this engagement, and being king made finding a dance partner easy if he so chose to dance. Lorres Argent would have been prefect he could have danced while trying to talk business with her, but it seemed that another had beaten him to it. And with everyone wearing a mask it was difficult to tell who that person even was! He could cut in. Nobody would refuse the king, but then he felt he would be abusing his power as king.

_No, I'll wait._ He decided not wanting to be rude or come across as a bully. He turned to watch the couples swaying and flitting across the dance floor. Colors blended together as he walked so too did costumes of different creatures. There were Chasnids, winged fairies, flowers, knights, jesters, highwaymen; someone was even dressed as a tree, a few pirates slipped around as well. Everything seemed so fantastical compared to his simple Grey Warden armor and helm. He placed his hand on the pommel of his sword. It felt nice having the weapon close by again. A smile found its way onto his lips as he remembered that Shirl had given him the beautifully crafted weapon. They had argued about him selling his Grey Warden sword since it was past its prime, and she had presented him with a new weapon shortly afterward that was better than his old one all around. For weeks he refused to use it just to annoy her, but as they grew beyond friendship he had switched the swords one night while watching Shirl sleep. He had loved her, he still loved her. His chest ached suddenly for those long nights months ago when they had escaped the world for a few stolen hours.

His eyes darted around. His lips turned downward. Shirl was the one person he hadn't seen tonight. She was also the one person he wasn't certain he wanted to see. She hadn't outright lied to him, but she was still keeping him in the dark. She hadn't learned to trust him. He trusted her completely and she had never returned the favor. He was angry and hurt to think that she couldn't or wouldn't trust him.

"Excuse me, Your Majesty," A soft spoken voice piped from behind him. The song that was playing had come to an end but another slow song was starting to play. Alistair stepped to the side to let the person behind him pass, as his eyes scanned the crowd out on the dance floor for Lorres. He found her with several young men all asking her to dance.

Puffing his chest out and squaring his shoulders he started onto the dance floor when someone caught his elbow. He whirled around to berate the nervy person; he stopped his mouth hanging open. A woman dressed in silver and gold gown that rivaled if not matched the Orlaisian ambassador's dress stood before him. The gown was mostly silver trimmed with intricate gold lacing and embroidered with gold and silver stars. Her mask obscured most of her face was also in the shape of a silver star. The jewels that decorated her ears and throat were delicate drops of amber. Amber the same color as her eyes.

"Shirl!" Alistair exclaimed shocked by her sudden appearance and attire. He had never known her to wear a dress much less a gown of this extravagance. Even with the mask she was breathtaking. A quick look around told him that many had noticed her arrival. But it was more that nobody recognized her. How could they? He had barely recognized her.

"Not so loud." She whispered to him. She smiled and curtsied to him. Her curtsy was practiced and mechanical. "Your Majesty, forgive my impudence and my rudeness, but could I have the honor of a dance." Her voice was higher than her normal range. He gaped at her. She caught his eye and seemed to be willing him to accept her invitation to dance.

Alistair cleared his throat and nodded, she released his arm. "It would be my pleasure." He stated, offering her his arm. She took it and he led them out onto the dance floor.

The song was not even halfway through as he placed one hand on Shirl's waist and clasped the top of the other. They moved in rhythm to the music, she moved gracefully but with a hint of controlled power. She danced like she fought. Her steps practiced and measured, yet graceful and strong. He looked down at her. She was hard not to stare at. Almost everyone was trying to watch them dance now. Even the other dancers. Who was the strange woman bold enough to ask the king to dance?

"It was not my intent to bring everyone eyes on us." She sighed. "But I should have guessed, the king dances with someone not related by blood or marriage tongues start wagging." Shirl commented as he shifted her, a step to the left. The dance wasn't overly complicated, thank the Maker.

Alistair remained silent. He didn't know what to say. He tried to focus on the dance steps, but Shirl looked beautiful…radiant much like the star she was dressed as. He had never seen her looking like this. In fact he was pretty certain no one had seen her like this. "I don't think anyone knows it's you." He stated after a few more seconds of silence.

"Good." She nodded and then smiled. His step faltered slightly as the smile lit up her face making him weak in the knees. "Don't want people to recognize me. It's the point of the costume."

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "What? Why?"

Shirl shook her head. "It's nothing to..."

"It's always something with you when you say 'nothing'." He leaned his face closer to her. "Don't deny it. You've avoided me and you try to talk circles around me whenever I do approach you about anything. I know about the assassination plot." He whispered the last few words into her ear. Her back tensed and her sharp intake of breath told him that she hadn't wanted him to know about it. He squeezed her hand and swept her around in time with the music. "You could've told me." He continued. "Don't you trust me?"

"Of course, I trust you!" She hissed then she let out an exasperated breath.

"Then why not tell me?"

"Alistair, I can't talk about it right here."

Alistair's jaw clenched, but he understood what she meant. "What would you like to talk about then?" He moved her again the song was ending their time was growing short.

"Maker, I hate this." She said suddenly. She pulled back slightly to look him in the eye. He felt himself tense at her words. "Not _this._" She stated quickly. Alistair watched her bite her lip. "I hate that can't breathe in this dress. I feel like I can barely move." Her smile was forced even to him. He didn't like that she was forcing herself to smile. She never used to have to force herself to do so.

"I don't know. You look absolutely ravishing." The music died down and he spun her around in the last step of the dance. He grinned boyishly at her as he pulled her close to the point where they were almost touching noses. Her warm sweet breath brushed across his face and he yearned to kiss her. Right there in front of everyone he wanted to especially when she licked her lips. As he leaned forward to press his lips to hers she took a step back. She curtsied to him.

"Thank you for the dance, Your Majesty." She said in a cool voice.

He took her hand and pulled her up. She caught his eye and tilted her head ever so slightly. "There's no need for that. It was my pleasure, my lady." He raised her hand to his lips and brushed them ever so slightly across her knuckles. She shivered at the touch of his lips.

He dropped her hand as another dance started up people milled about asking for partners. Many couples were speaking in hushed whispers. Alistair offered Shirl his arm. She took it gratefully. Leading her from the dance space he walked back toward the throne that was stationed at the far end of the room. "We need to talk." Alistair said softly as he nodded his head toward Bann Teagan, who raised a silver goblet to him. More nobles had gathered around the Bann of Raineafere. The nobles gathered around him stared openly at Shirl. One woman dressed as some type of fairy raised her gold leaf fan to her face as she leaned over to her partner, who was dressed as a sea serpent whispering scandalously about Shirl.

"Who does she think she is? Asking the king to dance?" The woman's voice was surly and held a hint of contempt and jealousy.

Alistair didn't hear her partner's reply, but he felt Shirl's hand tighten on his arm. He looked down at her. She was tense and her eyes glanced everywhere at once. Left, right, straight ahead, up, left and right again.

_She's looking for someone._ The thought struck him as odd, but not completely out of place. If there was an assassination attempt it could be at any moment. But she had still heard the comment. "So about this plot…" He trailed off hoping to get something out of her.

Shirl shook her head. "Not now."

"Why not now?" He kept his voice calm and causal they could have been discussing the weather.

"Because now is not the time or the place for such discussions."

"Oh and when were you planning on telling me?" Alistair inquired. "Was it going to be after the attempt happens?"

Shirl sighed. "Keep your voice down." She smiled and giggled expectantly. Alistair narrowed his eyes and smiled back. They were putting on a show. Alistair knew it, but he was saddened that they couldn't be open and honest about what they might be feeling. He was angry, but mostly hurt.

"You should trust me." He stated simply. They stopped they had reached the dais.

"I do trust you." She whispered back as he released her arm. She curtsied again and he took up her hand brushing his lips across her scarred knuckles. Her hands were warrior hands, tiny white scars crisscrossed over them like a delicate lace glove.

"Then confide in me."

She shook her head as he straightened and released her hand. "I can't. Forgive me." She breathed as she turned away. Alistair watched her walk away, his fist clenched at his side to keep from reaching out and pulling her back to him.

A woman's high pitched scream echoed throughout the ballroom. The musician's song cut off mid-playing their instruments grinding to a halt. People looked around curiously and then suddenly parted as a wailing replaced the scream. Alistair stood staring out across the crowd of people shifting and speaking in hushed voices.

Everything that happened next happened in a blur of motion. Alistair heard the rustle of skirts and then he was being tackled from the right. Whomever hit him caught him off guard, knocking him to the floor. The air rushed from his lungs as he slammed into the hard marble step. Little white pinpricks of light danced before his eyes. The weight of the person, pressed down on him. Struggling slightly to unpin his arms he looked down and caught a glimpse of silver, amber, and gold, pale blonde hair and a splattering of red. Blood red.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_Shirl!_ His mind slowly processed what he was seeing. The red was spreading across her back seeping through the soft fabric of her gown. A bolt from a crossbow was lodged just under her right shoulder blade. Everything felt so numb. His mind blanked at what he was seeing. Gently, he grabbed her shoulders and turned her over. Her face was pale under her mask and her glittering amber eyes stared up at him, tears leaked from the corner of them. Her jewel like eyes roamed his face and a faint smile slipped onto her lips. "You're okay." She stated hoarsely relief and happiness flooding her features and in a flash her countenance twisted in pain.

Someone screamed and panic ensued. People ran for the exit. Some screaming, others blinding pushed to be the first out the room. Guards escorted their benefactors out of the room as quickly and smoothly as possible, but they were having a hard time reining everyone in. Alistair just stared down into Shirl beautiful face.

"Shirl!" He managed to speak her name. He brushed a lock of hair off her face. She blinked and then coughed blood flecking her lips. Alistair tore her star shaped mask away. "No," He whispered. He caressed her cheek with his thumb. _No, no, no, no…this can't be happening! How is this happening?_

Shirl coughed again. More blood. Heart pounding Alistair looked away. Chaos. People ran and screamed. Guards pushing and shoving, a familiar robed figure was making her away toward him through the crowd. A hand clamped down on his shoulder. He looked up and into the black masked face of a crow.

"I'll see to her. You might want to see to this crowd." Zevran said as he gently picked Shirl up from the floor. He cradled her to his chest. Blood covered Alistair's hands and was splashed across his armor. Finally guards managed to get into formation around him and Zevran. Wynne pushed her way through the crowd and came to the circle of guards who wouldn't let her pass.

"Let her through!" Alistair commanded. The guards parted and Wynne threw them all a callous look.

"Oh my, this is bad." She said coming to stand in front of Zevran and Shirl. Wynne's hands flickered to life with a light blue aura pulsing around them.

"Can you help her?" Alistair asked quickly pushing himself to his feet. He pushed down on the panic that was threatening to break through his calm façade.

Wynne nodded. "I think so, but we have to get her somewhere safe."

Alistair nodded and motioned for two of his guards. "Escort us to Lady Cousland's chambers. The rest of you," Alistair raised his voice so he could be heard of above the noise of the crowd. "Get these people out of here as safely as possible. Make certain all guests are escorted back to their rooms and estates. No one is to leave their respective areas. If anyone does make the attempt detain them for questioning."

The guards snapped to attention and then scurried off as Alistair motioned Zevran and Wynne to follow him. Walking up the steps of the dais he stepped past the throne and to the door that was located off to the right. He opened it. His mind raced as he started down the hallway. Zevran and Wynne trailed him as the guards followed their swords drawn and their eyes searching. One of the two men rushed past Alistair to take the lead watching for possible unseen enemies in the walkway.

_I don't understand. If it was an attempt on the ambassador then why was Shirl hit? She was standing next to me…_His steps faltered, but he managed to keep moving. _That's it. It was me! Someone was trying to assassinate me. Shirl stopped them. Then she must have seen who the person was. _He glanced over his shoulder at the woman Zevran carried in his arms. Shirl's rosy complexion was pale and her eyes were closed. Her chest rose and fell in deep uneven rattling gasps. _She just saved my life, but at the possible cost of her own. Maker, don't let her on me._ Tears blurred his vision and he looked away gazing intently at the guard in front of him. He refused to let them fall. Not now. Shirl needed him to stay strong.

* * *

After what seemed like an eternity they finally reached Shirl's chambers. Alistair shoved through the doors directly behind his guard. The room wasn't completely dark, a fire roared in the fireplace. Stepping back Alistair waited for Zevran and Wynne to walk through. He raised a hand as the trailing guard started through the door. "Stay outside. Guard the door and don't let anyone in here." He motioned for the other guard to join his fellow outside the room. As soon as he was certain the windows were shuttered and nothing was hiding anywhere the lead guard stepped outside. Alistair shut the door behind them.

He turned to Zevran and Wynne who had laid Shirl on the bed face down. Wynne's hands were glowing again as Zevran had a knife in hand and was cutting away at the back of Shirl's dress. Alistair felt helpless. He looked around for something that he could help with. He noticed the washbasin with a pitcher of water and the white towels on it. Removing his helm he dropped it to the floor as he walked over to the wash stand. Scooping up the bowl, pitcher and towels he headed over to Wynne and Zevran. The water in the pitcher was cold. He sat down the objects on the nightstand next to Wynne and headed back over to the door. Yanking it open, he ordered one of the guards to fetch Quill, bandages, hot water and towels. The guards bowed and the one started off down the hallway at a quick trot.

Slamming the door shut, he headed back over to the bed. Zevran had cut open enough of Shirl's dress that he was able to remove the upper portion away from her body. He was just starting on her chemise which was bright red with blood.

He had seen Shirl hurt before, but nothing like this. There was so much blood. Zevran's knife made short work of the under garment and he was able to pull it away from her back as well exposing her naked torso.

"That bolt has to come out before I can heal her properly. Right now I've only been able to slow the blood flow and heal some of the damage to her lung." Wynne explained speedily.

Zevran cast a quick eye over the embedded quarrel. "Hmm…I might be able to help with that. It will have to be cut out."

"What?" Alistair asked coming to stand next to Wynne. He eyed the former assassin dangerously.

"The bolt's lodged itself pretty deep. It will have to be cut out. We can't pull it out." Zevran supplied indicating with the point of his knife to quarrel sticking out of Shirl's flesh about inch under her right shoulder blade.

"Whatever we are planning will have to happen soon. Her heart beat is fading." Wynne added.

"Do whatever you can to save her." Alistair responded. "I've sent for Quill, hot water and bandages."

"Good," Wynne nodded. "Alistair, quickly strip off most of your armor and hold her down. This isn't going to be pleasant."

Alistair complied removing his armor and sword. Afterward he hopped up onto the bed and placed his hands on Shirl's bare shoulders. She was cool to the touch. He noticed. The contrast of her pale skin to his golden tan was startling to see. _She's lost so much blood. _

Zevran and Wynne stood off to Shirl's right side. Wynne's hands were glowing again. Zevran was cleaning his knife in the bowl on the nightstand. "It's not hot water, but it will do."

"Do you even know what you are doing?" Alistair asked of the former Crow.

Zevran shrugged and smiled his most charming grin. "I've seen my share of crossbow wounds."

Alistair stood his head. "That's not what I'm asking."

"Boys, don't even start. Alistair, right now you need to focus on holding Shirl down. Zevran, when you're ready." Wynne barked. Zevran nodded to Wynne and Alistair.

Alistair didn't know if he could handle seeing someone cut into Shirl like this. He had seen arrows broken off and pulled out of people. He still had the scar to prove that he had once been one of those people, but this was different. The arrows seemed easier and less messy whereas this procedure just seemed barbaric and cruel. Zevran had cleaned his knife and then used the fireplace to heat the metal of the blade to a red glow. He let it cool for a moment before he started digging at the edges of Shirl's flesh that the quarrel was embedded.

The smell of burning flesh hit Alistair nose like a punch. He almost gagged. But then Shirl screamed and tried to push herself up from the bed. Alistair mustered all of his strength into holding her steady. His thoughts drifted back to another time her had held her down. She had been poisoned by a Genlock's blade. The wound had only been a scratch, but he poison had knocked her out for five days straight. If Leliana hadn't administered the antidote when she did, then Shirl would have likely slipped into a coma and died. Of course not without the painful thrashing about first, she had given him a black eye. In her poisoned mind he had looked like a demon coming to torture her, she had later explained to him.

"Hold her steady, Alistair, one wrong move and she will end up damaging lung her beyond repair." Wynne snapped at him. He shook his head clearing away the thoughts of the past. Shirl needed him to stay focused.

Shirl tried to twist away from the blade. Alistair practically sat on her to keep her from moving. Sweat beaded on his forehead and dripped down his face at the effort it took to restrain her flailing body. It was a good thing Wynne had told him to remove his armor; she would have shredded herself on it. Zevran worked quickly and deftly working the blade in and around the bolt. A little trickle of blood escaped the hole but Wynne's hands were there hovering just next to Zevran's. Glowing blue, staunching the flow of blood.

What seemed like hours to Alistair, but in truth was only a handful of minutes, Zevran slid the quarrel free. He wrapped it in the towel from the nightstand and Wynne set to work repairing and closing the wound.

Shirl lost consciousness as Wynne worked. Her body going limp with exhaustion, Alistair gently eased his hands away from her shoulders. His fingers trailing the soft unblemished skin of her shoulders, she was still cool to the touch but her breathing so slowly coming back around to normal. Alistair sat back on the bed and watched Wynne work. His heart beat against his ribcage threatening to crush his chest. Inhaling a deep breath, he blew it out again trying to calm his frantic heart.

"Will she be all right?" He asked after a few minutes of silence.

"It's too early to tell." Wynne replied her brow wrinkling in concentration.

"If the assassin is worth anything most likely this bolt is poisoned. It very possible we could save her from the wound itself, but then she dies later due to poison." Zevran added darkly he looked the quarrel over thoughtfully.

Alistair pondered what to do. "I was the target tonight, not the ambassador." He stated more than questioned. He knew it was true.

Zevran nodded. "Yes, though from what I saw one of the ambassador's handmaidens was also hit. Shirl and I were prepared for the attack on you. We were not expecting the attack on the ambassador as well. I'm pretty certain it was to distract us from you. At least that is my guess." He sniffed the bolt and eyed it more closely. "Definitely poisoned."

"Really, you can tell that just by smelling it?" Alistair asked still trying to wrap his mind around the thought of someone trying to assassinate him. _What would be the purpose?_ He was too new to his kingship. He hadn't a clue. He knew that he might have enemies, but he didn't think there was anyone angry enough to want to kill him.

Zevran shook his head. "Not always. Most poisons don't have their own definable smell. They smell like something else. The trick is in knowing what each poison smells similar too."

"Could it be the Crows?" Alistair looked expectantly at the former Crow.

Zevran shrugged. "Could be. Hmmm…interesting. I believe this poison is called 'Bloodbane'. It only takes a little drop of this poison to render a person dead after a most horrific three days of pain. The plot thickens."

"Is there a cure? And what do you mean?" Alistair asked truly curious about the assassin's logical thought process.

"Yes, but it is difficult to make. I will set about it making it immediately." The assassin stated blatantly ignoring Alistair's last question. He turned and walked away.

"Zevran?" Alistair called slipping from the bed to stand beside Wynne. The healer's eyes were focused solely on the task of healing Shirl. The elf stopped his hand on the door handle.

"What is going on? I demand to know." Alistair growled at the elf. The former Crow tilted his head catching Alistair's eyes. He sighed and turned the door knob.

"I must start on this antidote immediately. But I will answer your questions here in a couple of hours." The golden haired elf flitted out of the room in a swirl of black and gold.


	9. Chapter 8

_I know its been awhile since I've updated life has kinda ran away with me. But here it is! The next chapter! Yay! And chapter 9 won't hopefully be too far away. : ) Thank you for the reviews, alerts and favorites to this story it means a lot to me. Enjoy! Happy Reading! _

_PE_

**Chapter 8**:

Alistair paced back and forth across the rug. He was wearing a line into the floor of his bedchamber right at the foot of the bed. His thoughts raced of what could be happening, what was happening and who was to blame. But mostly his thoughts turned to Shirl. Wynne had sent him out of the room for hovering over her while she tried to work on healing the injured Hero.

"Get out! You keep breaking my concentration!' Wynne had snapped. "I'll send for you when I'm finished."

Quill had arrived just as Alistair was walking from the room. "Stay with her, if she needs anything, get it for her." He had instructed his assistant. The elf had nodded and looked warily toward the healer before moving over to see if there was anything Wynne needed.

That had been three hours ago. Now he paced. It was late past midnight. His body shook slightly with penned up tension and exhaustion. He knew he was pushing himself, but at the moment he didn't care. He wanted to know if Shirl would be all right. _She has to be fine._ He thought for the thousandth or so time. He was trying to convince himself, but failing at it miserably.

A sharp rap at the door stopped him mid-step.

The person on the other side did not even bother to wait for him to respond. Instead they pushed the door open and entered.

Alistair straightened completely at the sight of Zevran.

"Any luck?"

The former Crow nodded. "It is indeed bloodbane poisoning. I've started the antidote of course finding all the necessary ingredients for it took forever." The elf ran a hand through his golden hair, which Alistair noticed was more than slightly disheveled. "It will be another two hours at least before it is finished." Zevran moved into the room and flopped himself heavily onto Alistair's bed.

Alistair crossed his arms and glared at the assassin. "So care to fill me in on the details of what exactly happened this evening?" He asked his anger becoming apparent in his voice.

The elf sighed and pushed himself up onto his elbows. "I was hoping that with all the excitement of the evening you would forget to bring up this particular topic again. No?" He sighed again and lay back down again. The elf waited several beats before continuing. Alistair gritted his teeth as he waited annoyed at the assassin, but more than worried now for Shirl.

"We will have about three days, before she will succumb to the poison. Bloodbane is a nasty busy. And most mages and healers completely miss it." Zevran said finally.

Alistair blinked. "How come?"

"Because it acts like a sickness. The wounds can be healed but the poison is nigh undetectable. It starts out as a fever, then the body becomes shaking as the person loses all control of their muscles and finally they start to hemorrhage from their nose, mouth and eyes." The elf crinkled his nose in disgust. "As I said it's a foul business. Me, personally I never really cared to use it. It's too slow and painful." Alistair noticed the slightly wince from the former Crow as he said the last words. Alistair's own heart clenched tightly twisting painfully in his chest.

"Shirl's been infected with this?"

Zevran just nodded solemnly from his relaxed spot on the bed. Another few minutes passed in silence each man wrapped up in their personal thoughts and memories.

"It was meant for you." Zevran stated quietly.

"I know." It was killing him. He could feel it. If Shirl died because of him… "She knew, about the attack. How?"

Zevran sighed and propped himself up on his elbows. "She knew because she pays attention. She listens. You," He jerked his chin sharply at Alistair. "Have been making some very big ripples in a rather large pond, my friend. Dealings with the Circle of Magi, angering Arls and Banns alike with new policies, making the Alienage a bann, did you not think, someone, somewhere along the lines would notice? You are a new king, in a land torn not all that long ago by a civil war. With no Blight to stop now the people that once rallied to your banner will have their own agendas. Shirl knew this. It's one of the reasons she agreed to come back to Denerim with you." He sighed, flopping back down placing his arms behind his head. "You're a fool. The woman's in love with you, Alistair. She was ready to die for all of us once before, did you not think she would likely try to do so again?"

Alistair closed his eyes. "I was hoping…" he started, but Zevran interrupted him with a wave of his hand above his head. "I don't know who was responsible. I know that there is a group of nobles that have been plotting against you since you made the announcement that Orlais was sending an ambassador. Most likely there are the same nobles who remember Orlais' occupation of Ferelden and do not wish to see it go back to the Orlaisians. Whatever the case maybe, the attack on the ambassador tonight was a decoy. They planted the information had a possible attack to increase security and watchfulness around her. But," he paused again letting his words sink in. "Their real target was you. They want you out of the picture."

"Why? How would any benefit?" He asked himself as much as Zevran. Then before the assassin could answer it hit him like a bolt of lightning. "They want to call another Landsmeet. Someone who has a lot of political sway or even very little could become ruler if the Landsmeet agrees to it." He groaned. "It would be a civil war all over again."

"But the real question, you must ask yourself is who stands to gain from another civil war?" Zevran inquired.

Alistair started to pace again as he thought about it. _Who would stand to gain anything from a civil war? Most Banns, arls and even teryns are rebuilding their armies, it would be crazy to even try to wage another war so soon after another…come on, Alistair, think! Who stands to gain the most? War as profit? Merchants? Maybe…" _He stopped abruptly in his tracks. Spinning around he looked toward Zevran a grim smile alighting his face. The elf raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yes?"

"I think I have an idea of who might want to kill me." Alistair said a little smugly.

"Ah, do tell."

Alistair shook his head. "Not right at the moment. I want to see if my suspicions are correct." He walked over to his armoire and flung it open. Grabbing his sword, he belted it on. He yanked a cloak from its peg and shut the armoire door.

"Where do you think you are going?" Zevran piped jumping up from the bed. He stretched like a lazy cat that had just been rudely awakened from its nap.

"_We_ are going to the Pearl." Alistair stated calmly.

Zevran grinned and leaped to his side. "You know, I don't think that is a wise decision." He shrugged. "But if someone is out to kill you then there are worst places to die."

"Actually I'm pretty certain the Pearl is on the list of worst places to die." Alistair quipped throwing his cloak around his shoulders.

"Huh, not to me, but then _I_ have almost died in worst places." Zevran chuckled as they left room. "Also I feel obligated to at least point out that someone just tried to kill you. And you are planning on wondering the streets in one of the roughest sections of the city. You are either very brave or very stupid. Then again maybe a little of both, eh?"

Alistair shook his head. "That's what you're here for...to protect me."

"Yes, well you see, I'm not really in the protection business, my friend, but in this case I _might _make the exception." Zevran's nose crinkled as a grin split his face. "Only for your dear Warden would I even consider this. Otherwise you'd be on your own."

"Oh, and here I thought it was because we were heading to the Pearl."

Zevran shrugged and laughed. "Well, there is that too."

Alistair rolled his eyes and continued down the hallway. In all the chaos of the night no one had bothered to reassign him his guards. For all he knew they were still carrying out his orders to guard Shirl's door and to escort guests home. The hall was virtually deserted only a servant or two hurrying about their early morning duties.

_Sorry, Shirl, but I can't sit around and do nothing. Not while you could die because you were protecting me. _Alistair thought as he and Zevran walked out the castle and out into the rapidly brightening day.


	10. Chapter 9

_Hello! Thank you for the reviews, follows and alerts to this story! I should be back to updating every week as long as everything works out. I actually liked this chapter. It's interesting. I think Alistair is noticing things about himself that he didn't realize were even there before. : ) It's fun character development. I don't want him to lose that sarcastic edge he adds to the series, but I think he is starting to get a bit more confident in his abilities as king. So please read, enjoy and review! Thanks again! Happy reading!  
_

_PE_

* * *

**Chapter 9**

The sun peeked over the horizon as Alistair and Zevran entered the Pearl. The brothel was located in Deneri's Docks district. Fishy salty sea air mixed with filth and desperation filled the air. Alistair sniffed the air, his nose crinkled in disgust. Next to him Zevran shifted uncomfortably the former Crow's eyes darted left and right as they entered the establishment.

Zevran had been quiet and on guard since they had left the castle grounds. Alistair had a suspicion that the elf was hiding something, but quickly put it from his mind as the warmth from inside the brothel seeped through his cloak and clothes. Alistair lowered the cowl and Zevran did the same. The doorman, Chester, a fellow as tall as he was wide, greeted them both with a daring eye and a nod.

"Brothel's closed." Chester said stoically arms crossing his massive chest.

Zevran and Alistair shared a look. Zevran's face split into a wick grin. As Alistair supplied, "Really, brothel's close, who knew?"

Zevran shrugged and assessed Chester. "Tell Madam Rosie that Zevran and a friend are to see her."

The big man eyed the two of them again. "Let them in, Chester. I will see to them." A pretty dark haired woman said from the doorway of the main parlor. Chester glared at the woman.

"But, Rosie said no more visitors,"

The woman rolled her eyes. "I'm free. I can take care of them."

Chester huffed out a breath and motioned for the two of them to go through. Zevran smiled at the bouncer as he walked by taking the woman gently by the arm. "Such a beauty I have not seen in quite some time. You are a rare jewel to find in such an establishment."

Alistair nodded to Chester as he walked pass. The bigger man glared at him with contempt glittering in his bright gray eyes.

The woman giggled and pulled herself closer to Zevran, laying her head on his shoulder. "You're a sweet thing." She said. Alistair rolled his eyes as the woman directed them to a table that was free. Actually he noticed all the tables were unoccupied. In his evening jaunts with the construction workers into this place it had been packed. _I guess even a brothel can't be busy all the time._ But the place had been packed every night he had been here. So crowded that he couldn't even imagine it another way.

As Alistair sat down at the table with Zevran across from him, the elf pulled the woman onto his lap. She giggled again. Zevran whispered something in the woman's ear and she giggled again and then nodded. She looked across the table at Alistair.

"Madam Rosie, is in the back counting last night's take. I'll see if she'll speak with you."

Alistair blinked and nodded trying to hide his surprise.

The woman snickered as she slipped from Zevran's lap. "I heard your request at the door." She responded and then squeaked as Zevran slap her bottom as she walked away.

Alistair's brow furrowed as he sat back. He drummed his fingers on the table looking around at the barrenness of the brothel. It was quiet. No raucous laughter, excited gossiping, stifled moans, playful banter or drunken revelry. It was like a ghost town, abandoned and forgotten. No musicians played a lively tune to keep up patrons spirits. His fingers thrummed on...

Zevran glared at him. "Would you stop that?" The elf whispered sharply.

Alistair stopped looking at his hand. His nerves were on fire. Something wasn't sitting right. Everything was too quiet. Chester had looked on guard, the bouncer during the morning, he wasn't normally needed. No one here. His mind raced putting all the facts together. Something was out of place. No patrons lounging about sleeping in the parlor, normally there was always one or two men too drunk to stumble their way home. Nothing. It was all clean and orderly and …

"Zevran," Alistair started sitting up straighter in his chair.

The elf made a placating gesture. "I know, I know, it's too quiet." He whispered grinning madly. "I wonder what our lovely hostess has been up too."

Just then Rosie walked through the door followed closely by two heavily armed men. Rosie was a pretty middle aged woman with graying red hair pulled back into a bun. Her eyes matched the color of her dress perfectly a dark emerald green. Alistair stood up his hand flying to his sword handle. Zevran didn't move he seemed relaxed and casually sat back in his chair his eyes watching the two guards.

"Well, well, well," Rosie clucked forcing a smile onto her heavily painted lips. "To what do I owe the honor of the King in my establishment this fine morning?"

"We are merely looking for information." Alistair stated using what Shirl called his 'king' voice.

"Oh my, right to the point, Your Majesty. I shouldn't be surprised. You are always blunt about the things you want." She purred though her eyes narrowed. Zevran didn't move a stupid grin was still plastered across his face.

"You know why we are here?" Alistair asked. He really expect her to say, 'yes', but he would give her the benefit of the doubt for the moment.

"No, but I have a feeling I'm not going to like what you are here for."

"Why the guards then?"

Rosie tsked and looked down at her long painted nails. "My girl told me that two armed men were waiting for me in the parlor. I didn't know who to expect. I was being…cautious. Your Majesty, understands I hope."

Alistair nodded. "Send them away. We need a word in private." He removed his hand from his sword. Zevran stood up leaping to his feet like a cat.

Rosie sighed and waved the guards away. "Go see if Chester needs...anything." She commanded as she quirked a finger at Alistair. She spun away heading toward the back hallway and her office.

Zevran followed after Alistair. Alistair was amazed at how not long ago he wouldn't have liked the assassin anywhere near his back, but now-he trusted Zevran at least as long as it came to Shirl's well- being.

Rosie opened the first door on their left and entered ushering them inside. A heavy oak desk sat in the center of the room. There was no window in this room. Three lit lanterns hung on the wall giving the room a yellow glow.

Rosie shut the door behind them and moved over to the desk. "Well, what can I do for you?"

Alistair exchanged a look with Zevran. "We need information."

Rosie sat down and rolled her eyes. "Yes, of course, Your Majesty, I believe you mentioned that. What type of information? And how much are you willing to pay?"

Pay? Alistair didn't say anything out loud, of course he should have known that this type of information wouldn't be free. "I'll be willing to pay you quite handsomely, provided your information is good."

Rosie's smile was tight lipped. "Of course, you won't believe what pillow talk can lead too. Men and women divulge their most precious inner thoughts to my girls and boys."

"Any of them know about a possible assassination attempt on the Orelisian ambassador?" Alistair started safe. He knew that the two attempts were related. The ambassador was a distraction or at least seemed to be in order to draw cover away from him, but both attempts had to be plotted by the same people or person.

Rosie's smile faded and she pursed her lips in thought. "Well, well, that is a little piece of information that I have heard traveling around. The girls and boys whisper of it, but it would be almost impossible to track down the main source of that little rumor. It's been spread around so quickly."

Alistair sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He knew she was fishing for money at this point.

"All right, let's cut to the chase, Your Majesty, we haven't got all day and we haven't slept." Zevran piped up. He sounded surly. Alistair glanced at the elf. Zevran's golden eyes were a tint darker than normal and his didn't look relaxed anymore. In fact to Alistair he looked furious. Then he realized what Zevran really meant. Alistair's heart skipped a beat. Shirl. She only had three days. She could wake at any moment. He hoped suddenly the potion Zevran was brewing worked.-if not he would lose her.

The thought hit him like a ton of bricks. Shirl gone. Even when they had faced the Archdemon stopping the Blight, fought darkspawn, dragons, werewolves, and anything else the Maker decided to throw at them- he always had faith, always knew she would come out alive. Now? He wasn't certain at all. In fact he was terrified she wouldn't survive. He had pushed the thoughts aside to think clearly, but seeing the look on Zevran's face told him the truth: The assassin wasn't certain she would survive either.

"Look, we need that information. Now." Alistair used his 'king' voice again.

"Uhh…I'm sorry, dearie, but even the king…"

Zevran moved a blur of gold and black he was behind Rosie's chair with a blade pressed tightly against the woman's throat. "I don't have time for games." The elf whispered darkly in her ear. "And neither does his Majesty. So talk or your pretty face with have more than wrinkles to cover up."

Alistair closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Zevran," he warned the elf. But the former Crow didn't even look at him, his attention was focused on Rosie. _Fine. I'll use it._

"Can't you control your pet, Alistair?" Rosie sounded frightened.

Alistair opened his eyes and shrugged. "Most of the time." He smiled grimly, "But most of the time Zevran acts on his own, by my leave, of course." Now Zevran glanced at him. He didn't work for Alistair, he knew it, if anything he worked for Shirl. But Rosie didn't need to know that.

"So I'm asking one more time, nicely, if you give me the information I'm seeking then, my friend will back off. If not, then I'll leave him to it." Alistair didn't like the taste of the words as he said them. But they were necessary. He hadn't brought money with him. Grant it after this he would never be able to show his face in the Pearl again without having to worry about a dagger in his back. But he was surprisingly okay with that. There were other places to get drinks and information.

Rosie swallowed and her eyes flickered up to meet Zevran's. Fear brewed in the depths of her green eyes. She licked her lips. "The rumors started about three weeks ago. One of my girls, Cilly, started spreading it around that the Crows were being hired for a job in the castle. Word travels fast, I tried to stop her from speaking about it." She swallowed again.

"Someone paid her to spread the information around?" Alistair asked placing a hand up to his chin and rubbing the bristles growing there.

Rosie tried to nod, but found Zevran's blade bit into her more. "So she said after she started talking about it again in front of Orelisian merchants too. Girl was foolish. Never could keep her mouth shut. I let her go after that."

"Who paid her?"

"Don't know." She flinched as Zevran's knife dug deeper into her flesh. "Ow, miserable bastard, it was…a merchant fellow not a regular just came in one night saw several girls, but only took Cilly to the back. He never came back in after that. Shortly after that Cilly started spreading the rumor around."

"Come on, Madam, surely you had some idea of who the man was." Zevran suggested sweetly.

Rosie started to shake her head, but stopped as the knife nicked the tender flesh under for chin. A single bead of blood welled up and ran down her pale throat. "No, I don't, otherwise I would tell you. Believe me, I don't want to die for this." She gulped nervously again. Her eyes strayed from Zevran over to Alistair.

Alistair watched. He wasn't certain what to make of Rosie's information. She could still be lying, but in his experience she was most likely telling the truth. She seemed frightened enough.

"Where does Cilly live? Or where was she living?" Alistair inquired keeping his voice neutral.

"She was living here with the rest of the girls, but once I let her go, your guess is as good as mine." Rosie stated her voice hitching slightly.

"Liar," Zevran hissed.

"No, I swear its true. I don't know where…hssst…stop that."

"No," Zevran quipped coldly. "Tell us, or…"

"The Alienage would be my first guess, but I swear _that_ is all I know. She was from the Alienage originally she might have gone back there. She has family; a brother or sister or something like that." Rosie gasped out.

Alistair nodded and Zevran removed his knife flicking it back into the sheath at his wrist with a deft twist of his hand. "Thank you, Madam Rosie, we'll be leaving now." Alistair nodded politely and spun around opening the door.

Chester and the guards eyed them warily as they left the Pearl. Zevran followed closely at Alistair's heels. The elf said nothing as they walked through the Dock District of the city. The city was starting to wake up. Dock workers were unloading and loading ships of supplies and trade goods. Sailors were making ready to set sail. Captains bellowed out commands. Soon the whole city would be bustling with excitement and energy. Soon the castle staff, particularly Quill would realize that the King was missing. He should head back to the castle, but he couldn't.

"We're being followed." Zevran said suddenly from beside Alistair.

Alistair was wise enough not to look around to see who might be following them. "When did they pick us up?" He muttered nodding at a dwarf merchant who was setting out his wares.

"Shortly after we left the castle," Zevran stated he kept his eyes focused on the ground at his feet.

'What? And you didn't think to tell me until now."

"Well, I didn't know if we were truly being followed until now."

"That's great." Alistair rolled his eyes and shot a glare at the assassin. "Next time feel free to volunteer the information."

Zevran exhaled and looked sharply back at Alistair. "If it wasn't for me then you wouldn't have the information you do, so I'll take your acerbic tone as a 'thank you'."

Alistair didn't stop moving instead he kept walking, ignoring the elf.

"So are we heading to the Alienage?" Zevran asked flippantly.

Alistair nodded. "That's the game plan."

"You don't think you should…I don't know, head back to the castle to run the kingdom."

"Not until this is over with."

Zevran nodded and smiled. "Point taken."


	11. Chapter 10

_Hello and thanks for all the reviews, alerts, followers and favorites to the this story. It is still going on. But life does take it's toll and everything. Just haven't had time to write. Anyway, the next after this one is half finished so it shouldn't be as long between breaks. Anywya, enjoy and thanks again! _

_PE_

**Chapter 10:**

Wynne sat back in the chair to Shirl's bed and wiped the back of her hand across her brow. She was exhausted to say the least. Little beads of sweat coated her kindly wrinkled face, just as the perspiration moistened her robes as well.

"Will Lady Cousland live?" Quill asked her wringing his hands. The elf always seemed nervous about something. Wynne had no idea what had drawn Alistair to the twitchy elf. But Wynne really couldn't complain he had been a very helpful to her as she tended to Shirl's wound.

Sighed again and dropped her hand onto the cushioned armrest of the chair. "I don't know. I've done all I can for the wound, which wasn't fatal. But this blood poison? My magic can't seem to pinpoint it. It's curious."

Quill nodded his eyes flickering over to Shirl's prone form. "His Majesty said that Zevran was working on formulating a cure."

Wynne nodded. It would be Zevran who would know of this particular type of poison. "Speaking of _his majesty_, where is Alistair?" She glanced at the elf. Quill just wrung his hands again.

"He retired for the evening…huh, morning, that is." Quill replied casually. Wynne would have thought Alistair would not have left Shirl's bed side. Especially if it were possible the Warden might not make it. Wynne knew that Alistair and Shirl's relationship was rocky at best, even when they had been lovers they bickered and picked on each other. Yet there had always been a light in both their eyes when they stared at one another when the other wasn't looking. It was a look of love, passion, hope and joy-something that while fighting the Blight they had been rarely privy too.

The past few weeks had been hard of everyone, though once again on the young Wardens more than most. Alistair was consumed in his kingly affairs and Shirl in her General and Grey Warden responsibilities, but Wynne still caught them from time to time staring at one another with that hopeful look in their eyes. It was painful to watch them fall apart. A large part of Wynne's heart wanted to see the two of them and together again. But for whatever reason they stayed apart.

Wynne rubbed her forehead. She had a dull ache building up behind her eyes. The tell-tale sign of a headache coming on most likely brought about by exhaustion and overexertion of her magic. At least, Shirl was stabilized for the moment.

"Quill, could you bring me a glass of water?" Wynne asked politely.

The elf nodded and turned away from Shirl his eyes dark and haunted.

Wynne watched the elf walk across the room to the pitcher of water and mugs he had brought in earlier. He moved quickly and quietly. His gait suggesting none of the nerves that he appeared to have. Wynne wondered again why Alistair kept the elf close to him. Why had he chosen this jittery elf to be his personal assistant?

"Tell me something, Quill, how did you come into Alistair's service." Wynne asked taking in the shaky hands of the elf as he poured her water, though he didn't seem to spill very much of it.

"Oh, I came recommended by Lady Cousland."

"Really? And how do you know Lady Cousland?"

Quill turned and walked over to the elderly mage offering her the glass of cool clear beverage. "I worked in the late Teryn Cousland's household. I've known Lady Cousland for a number of years."

"How did you escape the attack on the Couslands?" Wynne inquired gently not wanting to upset him terribly.

"A few of were sent south with her brother when he went into Ostagar." Quill's eyes took on the dark haunted look again. "I barely escaped that place with my life. I returned to Highever as soon as I could. But it was sacked." He shook his head dislodging a few of strands of his graying hair. "I managed from there to make my way to Denerim after that." He looked at Wynne then sadness etched into his dark eyes. "I've survived a lot and when I heard that Lady Cousland was alive and that her brother was too, I sought them out." He turned his face away from Wynne then staring at Shirl once again. "I started off as her personal assistant when she returned to Highever, but when she made the announcement that she would be returning to Denerim to serve as the king's general Fergus asked me to accompany her. Along the way, we talked. She wanted me to watch for the king, make certain he arrived to meeting when he was supposed to, make his meeting for random little things…I was to take care of him." He paused and sighed. "Mostly I was to report anything out of the ordinary to her and I was to protect him if necessary."

"You're Shirl's spy?" Wynne sat back in her chair taking a sip of her water. Shirl was spying on Alistair? Why would she even consider that option? She could just ask the man for anything and he would find a way to make it happen…he loved her that much.

Quill shook his head. "I'm not to report _everything_ to her just if anyone is out of line or acting strange around him. Mostly I'm spying not on the king, but on the people around him. Lady Cousland was very adamant about that. I was not to interfere with his personal life at all…unless it jeopardized his well-being."

Wynne held up her free hand. "Wait a minute. Two things," she raised one finger, "Why tell me all this and second you said something about protecting him?"

Quill bit his lower lip and sighed. He raised a hand to the back of his neck and rubbed. "Yeah, well I'm telling you because both Lady Cousland and his Majesty seem to trust you. And second, I'm more than a simple servant always have been."

Wynne took another sip of water and wished suddenly it was something stronger. Some of Oghren's dwarven ale would be great right about now. "So you're really a bodyguard?"

Quill nodded. "You can say that. My family has worked for the Couslands for generations. When Highever was sacked most of my kin where killed- Howe might have known that the Cousland kept secret guards throughout their household." He shrugged.

Wynne exhaled and rubbed her brow. She noticed that Quill's nervous ticks had suddenly vanished. His wringing hands and twitchy eyes, even his random shakeiness was gone. "It's all an act." She whispered.

Quill smiled a dark quirking of the lips. "Yes," he stated.

"So you are here now because…"

"His Majesty doesn't quite know all of my abilities, but he's smarter than he looks and more observe too. He asked me to help you, but he really wanted me out of the room so that he could leave the castle." Quill answered crossing his arms over his chest. "This is my fault I should have been paying closer attention at the ball. I would have recognized…"

Wynne stood up and placed a gentle hand on the elf's shoulder. "It's not your fault. But you're certain Alistair has left?"

Quill looked at her sharply. "Yes, he and the former assassin both."

"Do you know where they might have gone?" Wynne prompted once again taking a long pull from her water glass.

"I have nothing." Quill closed his eyes and looked down upon the resting Shirl again. "But I will not leave her side. It's the least I could do until we hear word from one of them." He shook off Wynne's hand and sat on the edge of the bed arms crossed and watching out the high window.

Wynne glanced out the window as well. Dawn was lighting the eastern sky in a dim light gray and pink tinged embroidery. Sighing again Wynne downed the rest of her water and placed the glass on the side table next to the bed. Her job was far from over. If this poison was resisting her magic, then she would keeping Shirl stabilized until this supposed cure Zevran was working on was finished.

There was nothing else they could really do but wait. Wynne sat back in the chair and closed her eyes. "Wake me if anything changes with her. I need to rest for a bit."

"I will do so." Quill stated simply. "I'll also get us some food."

"Good, because I have a feeling we far from out of the woods yet." Wynne replied with a yawn that cracked her jaw. A few more seconds later found the elderly mage fast asleep and snoring softly.


End file.
